


sweat

by rockatansky



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Gym AU, just watch max feel awkward around attractive women, max/furiosa if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 19:43:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4112698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rockatansky/pseuds/rockatansky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“i came to the gym to work out but holy god i can’t stop watching you do one armed push ups that’s so hot” au</p>
            </blockquote>





	sweat

**Author's Note:**

> un-beta'd. love me please.

Max never really considered himself to be a fitness-buff. He kept fit, sure - he'd had to when he was in the force, and the urge to stay in shape had never really left him. However, since moving to Citadel, he'd definitely grown lax - too many nights slumped on the couch or binging on take-out to be any good for his arteries. So when he eventually found himself outside the town gym one day, it was because he knew actual exercise would be something he'd have to start doing again.

One thing he hadn't expected, however, was how  _difficult_  the whole experience would be. Seeing the perky grin of the receptionist as he walked through the entrance doors almost had him turn around immediately and never return. But he gritted his teeth in what he hoped was a reasonable excuse for a smile (yet sensed by the brief waver of her expression was more of a pained grimace), and plowed onwards towards the desk. 

"Hello!" The girl chirped, her face a mask of polite cheeriness again, as he shrugged his kit off his shoulder and reached into his back pocket for his wallet. "Do you have a membership card?"

"No." 

"Didn't think so." He glanced up just in time to see the flicker of panic in her eyes as she realised her slip, before she laughed lightly and added: "It's just, I've not seen you around before."

He grunted before he could catch himself and, not daring to gauge her reaction, quickly returned his focus to pulling open his wallet.

"Would you like one?"

He glanced up again. It took a few moments for her to catch on to his puzzlement, before she blushed a little and stammered out, "A membership, I mean."

He wondered, briefly, why he managed to make every situation he put himself in to be awkward, but before he could reply that no, he just wanted one session for now, but might apply for a membership later, he was interrupted by a presence at his back.

"You're too young to be flirting with the customers, Cheedo."

Her mouth opened in something like indignation, and he turned to see who was responsible for deepening the flush in the girl's cheeks. He was met with a shaven head, green eyes and a smirk that made him twitch slightly. She was a couple of inches taller than him, but he told himself it was because he slouched and only continued to shrink further under the gaze of both her and the receptionist. He suddenly wished, for what may have been the third or fourth time, that he had never come in. 

If she sensed his discomfort, she ignored it. 'Cheedo' had regained some composure, and as the woman came to lean against the counter beside him, the girl rolled her eyes.

"Ha ha, Furiosa." 

The woman flashed a smiled, and while he remained rummaging around for notes that he just couldn't seem to get a grip of, Cheedo, without instruction, rolled backwards on her seat to reach into the shelf that rested against the wall and pull out two protein bars. Rolling forwards again, she placed them on the counter and took the note Furiosa held out for her. 

"You'll like it in there today, it's pretty empty. Just don't push yourself  _too_  hard, okay?"

It was Furiosa's turn to roll her eyes. Max caught himself staring at the little routine in something that could have been awe but was mainly confusion, especially as it was just as she collected her change and the snacks that he realised the woman only had one arm.

He tried to catch himself before he stared for a second too long, but he definitely already had done and she most definitely had already noticed, judging by how she raised her eyebrows at him. Luckily, all she did was nod to her friend behind the counter, take her stuff and leave, but the intensity of her gaze had left prickles up and down his spine. 

A soft cough from the girl alerted him to the fact that he was still staring at the doors to the gymnasium, between which the woman - Furiosa - had just disappeared. Now totally humiliated, he quickly mumbled that he only wanted to pay for today, thanks, handed her the money, and practically scurried away - trying (and failing) to ignore the knowing grin she gave him. 

 

The girl had been right: the gym was fairly empty. The woman had disappeared - he assumed into the female showers and changing rooms at the end of the room - and the only others were a couple already well into a session on the rowers, trying to maintain a conversation with each other while they sweated and heaved.  He was already changed and prepared, so made his way over to the running machines. One glance at the screens lining the walls above told him he would not be entertained by the (shitty) choice in music videos they displayed, so he reached into his bag and pulled out his iPod. 

He'd forgotten how good running truly felt, and for the first time since he arrived, he actually began to get a sense of satisfaction. Anxiety leaked out of him with each pound of his feet against the treadmill, and his heartbeat was soon throbbing heavily over the music in his ears. The steady rhythm, the increasing heat, the pooling sweat - it was comforting in a way that discomfort could be for a man like him. It reminded him of days as a cop - good days, the days he had signed up for, where adrenaline provided a constant high and the thrill of the chase filled his bloodstream. He picked up his speed, ever so slightly.

His lungs where just beginning to burn when he saw movement in the reflection of one of the darkened screens. The woman had entered the room again, and was settled on the floor doing sit ups - a look of grim concentration on her face. Max was surprised he hadn't noticed her enter, but doing so now had done something to his focus that caused his rhythm to falter, the soreness of his feet and old injury in his knee becoming apparent in a way that he knew would make it difficult to continue unless he took a quick break, first. 

Grudgingly, he slowed the machine to a stop. The ache of unused muscles drove him towards the bench where his bag lay, and he lowered himself gently onto it. He could already feel his knee seizing up - the pumping adrenaline from earlier having abandoned him - and he cursed under his breath. All he could do was drag his water bottle out and take a few long, grateful sips, while attempting to massage the growing tension from his leg.

Sitting there, he let his eyes wander to the others in the room. The couple had stopped rowing, and just sat and chatted while they caught their breath. The woman, on the other other hand, was still going at it hard. She'd changed into tracksuit bottoms and tennis shoes, and a cropped sports tank top that revealed wiry limbs and a toned stomach that he refused to find distracting. What was distracting, however, was when she flipped onto her front and began to do push ups.

With one arm. Which was, as he'd noticed earlier, the only full arm she had.

It actually took a few seconds for him to register what had just happened. He would've thought her balance and centre of gravity were affected by the lack of an appendage, yet she'd moved into it so fluidly, barely pausing, barely catching a breath - years of practise, no doubt. He could see a lifetime of learning to adapt in the lean muscles of her arm, the ripples that traveled over her bare back. She never faltered - still wearing that grim mask of determination that was born from a years of having to prove a point. 

He could imagine the strain, though, that was building in her shoulder. He thought of her, going home after a session, as the muscle tightened and ached, and wondered how it would feel to dig a thumb into the flesh there and work out all the tension until she moaned.

 

_Hold up, Max, what the fuck?_

At that moment, the couple walked past him with their stuff and left. He hadn't noticed them get up and pack all their things away, but then again, his focus had been concentrated elsewhere. Yet as they sauntered out, they left him and the woman and his thoughts alone in the expanse of the empty room and he suddenly felt a wave of panic rising up within him.

It was futile, in the end, because the minute the door swung shut behind them, her voice rang out.

"Impressed?"

It was sarcastic, or rhetorical, or something, because she was smirking at him again and Max felt his stomach coil because it meant she'd seen him watching her. So he decided the best thing to do was to be honest.

"... Yeah, I..."

She was kneeling now - her workout paused to raise an eyebrow at him, but it wasn't like earlier when the movement had held confrontation and contempt. She oozed confidence, and as she raised a hand to swipe at her face, skin shiny with sweat and eyes hooded and amused, he felt his stomach coil in an entirely different way.

" _...Yeah."_

**Author's Note:**

> come talk to me about fury road:  
> lovelynux.tumblr.com


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